


The Persistence of Memory

by betterrecieved



Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-21
Updated: 2014-01-21
Packaged: 2018-01-09 12:23:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1145941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/betterrecieved/pseuds/betterrecieved
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nasir has an unwelcome revelation about his past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Persistence of Memory

**Author's Note:**

  * For [crazzzedope](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazzzedope/gifts).



"He sold me. He sold me." Nasir scrambles upright from calm unrippled surface of twilight sleep, giving unconscious voice to unwanted revelation.

Before, Nasir knew only this, all he need know:

1\. His brother called him Nasir.

2\. Ship tossed and he did not see sunlight for what seemed like years.

3\. He was Tiberius but it is over now.

Now unwelcome memory pierces him like arrow, new fact of his life:

1\. Coin flashed in his brother’s hand.

2\. His brother called him Nasir.

3\. Ship tossed and he did not see sunlight for what seemed like years.

4\. He was Tiberius and it seems to have no end.

"Am I yet even Nasir?" All is shrouded in doubt, all of him that not here held to Agron. His voice is muffled in Agron’s broad chest, where respite from past was assured until intrusive thought spoiled all. His insides knot, they lurch like canting ship.

He turns his head to vomit upon floor.

"Nasir," Agron growls. "Always Nasir."

But Nasir wonders.

*

He is small boy, clutching large doll to his chest. Hurried shadows flutter round him inside warmth of kitchen. Women, girls. He is ordered to give back doll but refuses. 

 

Burst of pain to side of face, then he is outdoors and he does not care for brightness of sun in his face nor other boys who swarm and whoop and cannot be contained indoors.

*

His brother is older, much older. He recalls no father. His mother is vague, yet another shadow. Perhaps she is not mother but aunt.

He is not inside room with brother but watching from hidden vantage point nearby. 

Coin flashes in his brother’s hand.

Memory dissolves from pulse of bright-lit revelation to dull pain in Nasir’s temple. 

*

"I once also was Tiberius." On his knees in temple alcove, he looks up through long lashes, through strands of long hair dripping with fluid from Agron’s hard cock, slithers his big tongue along Agron’s shaft, but Agron pushes him away.

When Agron pulls him onto bed, he balls his fists, shakes his head, does not know from where words arose, only that he must tell Agron all of himself, Agron must know entire truth. Hates that he is without strength enough to escape Agron’s embrace.

"Nasir." Agron grasps his face, forces his gaze to meet storm gathering in Agron’s eyes. "Nasir. We will kill them all."

*

They cannot kill them all. They live forever, or worse yet, they cloak themselves in imperfect memory, only to attack when Nasir should feel particularly safe from them.

For armor from enemy within himself, Agron forces him to repeat this, all he need know:

1\. He was Nasir.

2\. He was still Nasir.

3\. He is now Nasir.

4\. Will always be Nasir.

*  
He wants to be fucked, filled and falling into impenetrable haze of Agron’s hands and arms and teeth, his own sighs and sobs and screaming. 

To be forever by Agron’s side, his hand wrapped round big cock, stroking head lazily with his thumb, spooned within curl of Agron’s big hard body, crushed and breathing hard beneath Agron.

This what Tiberius wanted also: to be exquisite doll in arms of stronger man, merciless, greedy man. 

To be desired lends him strength to brandish sword, to wear adornment of puer upon one arm and armor on his other. His hair, his vanity, his veil, he lets down from sternly tied ribbon only for Agron, shakes mane out over his face and unclasps his armor, stands naked and needy before Agron, his reason, his reassurance, makes gift of himself and war is won when Agron takes offering. 

(“Do not desert me, do not leave me,” he gasps while Agron’s oiled cock-head muscles into his tightness, hurts and stretches his goodness, only part of him Dominus did not lay claim to; it is destined only for Agron, this exquisite pain. “Keep me, keep me, keep us…”

Agron grasps his breast hard, digs rough fingers into his flesh. Seats hmself deep with kiss to Nasir’s grimacing face. Always a kiss eases small death of entry. Always Agron knows. “Nasir. My Nasir. Always.”)

The gods themselves. Agron promised, Agron who was always Agron, who knows life beyond bedroom and villa, who knows himself, who is only one self. 

There can be only one reason for Agron to leave him: Tiberius. Simpering, craven needy part of him that dreams of stroking brown cock which in his imaginings has grown to inhuman proportions, dreams of slanted kohl-lined eyes staring into his watery eyes with each careless thrust. No soft kisses to soften blow of merciless penetration, no soft gaze afterward. 

Yet when Agron casts him away, Castus calls him by name given solely to Agron, looks down on him with loving eyes, seeing only Nasir - insult beyond words; Nasir is only for Agron.

Nasir proves weak as Tiberius, cannot fight, cannot hurt, can only fall distraught into comfort of a man’s strong arms, and these are arms he has dreamt of, and these are not Agron’s arms, but he is at least comforted.

*

Gods return Agron broken. 

It is not punishment, Agron tells him. No, he is not angered. It is not fault of Nasir, it is fault of Rome. Come here. 

Nasir goes to him, finds Agron not broken but strong as deep-rooted tree struck by violent storm. Agron is the storm itself; his arms still hold latent strength of five men, and Nasir makes himself smaller, wrapped tightly within inescapable embrace.

Scales stand unbalanced, and Agron must bear all of weight, though Nasir makes attempt. Even now, especially now; Nasir can only clench his jaw in silence or cry and make attempt to explain, to give apology. Agron must know: He is more than Nasir, worse than Nasir. But words come out garbled, some in other tongue, none of it sense. 

"Nasir." Agron kisses him all over his face, presses scarred palm to his mouth to silence him. "It is alright. I know all of you."

*

"My place is forever by *your* side," Nasir promises. He is his man’s, he is Nasir, he is warrior, he is going to die not gray and old and loved and forever held in Agron’s arms as he had hoped, and he is going to be Nasir for Agron.

He does not let go of choke-hold on Agron’s bullish neck, but goes limp, presses into Agron’s body. He will die Nasir but he must have Agron fill all of him.

"There is no time," Agron says.

High-pitched sound escapes his throat at Agron’s refusal, sound like wounded animal caught in trap. He covers his mouth, shamed, but the thunder returns to Agron’s eyes, and Agron makes time, makes war wait for lovemaking.

When Agron lifts him on to bed he is wild with fear, with desire, scratching at Agron, careless of Agron’s bruised skin; for once he knows all of Agron, that Agron does not mind weight of his need, but craves it, would have shouldered it had Nasir given it up.

At this thought regret nearly overcomes him, and nothing can overwhelm him when Agron’s hips wind forward and he is overflowing with more than pleasure, more than pain.

"Nasir. I have you. All of you." Agron reads his thoughts, turns his face and kisses him wet and deep, holds his cock rooted inside in slow grind that makes him wail and scrabble at Agron’s hands. 

And Nasir only knows this, all he need know:

1\. Agron.


End file.
